This was my first dinner at Corton, restaurateur Drew
Nieporent’s newest creation in the Tribeca space once occupied by Montrachet.
Chef-Owner Paul Liebrandt offered to cook for us, and we took him up on the
spot. The extensive tasting menu had plenty of highlights, most of which came
later on in the meal. There is no question Liebrandt is massively talented, in
fact he may be too talented at times. Each of these courses featured multiple
accompaniments, more often than not served on separate dishes, which made for
an awkward, cluttered table that required constant attention from the staff.
Some of the accompaniments didn’t seem to add much to the dishes, if anything
they detracted from the purity of the main ingredients. Still, Liebrandt did
brilliantly with his meat and fish main courses, all of which were seasoned and
cooked to perfection. Service of both the food and our wines was impeccable.

I took a brief tour of the kitchen after dinner and was
amazed at how tiny the space is considering the intricacy of the platings, many
of which are carried out with surgical precision. My sense is that with a
little more restraint the cuisine could ascend to the stratosphere among New
York’s top restaurants, but as they say, to each their own.

The 1985 Krug
Collection was subtle and refined in its warm, smoke-tinged layers of
fruit. The mousse was impeccable and refined, but the wine lost a bit of energy
as it faded in the glass, reflecting my most recent experiences with this
Champagne. Leflaive’s 1982
Bâtard-Montrachet was sweet, rich and honeyed. The wine showed great
balance and harmony, with a sensual, oily finish that rounded out the
harmonious close. Trimbach’s 1999
Riesling Clos St. Hune was the most fascinating of these whites. Blessed
with superb elegance and class, the wine floated on the palate with endless
layers of lime peel, spices and crushed rocks. It was magnificent on its own
and even better with the food.

We had great luck with a bottle of Giacomo Conterno’s 1967 Barolo, which was one of the more massive,
dense examples of this wine I have ever had. Still deeply colored with just a
touch of lightening around the rim, the wine emerged from the glass with the
essence of dark fruit, menthol, licorice and spices in an authoritative,
masculine Barolo. Ponsot’s 1988 Clos de
la Roche could not have been more different. It was an especially
mid-weight, transparent Clos de la Roche endowed with expressive inner perfume
in a delicate, understated style for this wine.